


Anything, Anywhere at All

by ryan_the_baby_idiot



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (i mean i never say it explicitly but like Have That), :), Alternate universe AU, Background Les Amis de l'ABC, Demisexual Enjolras, Depression, Genderswap, Just stick with it, M/M, Miscommunication, and alcoholism, and other fun topics, enjolras has dark hair, i spent three chapters deciding whether i should make cosette gay or straight and then i make her bi, it will all make sense in the end, its an AU, kind of, like anxiety, should probably use some normal tags huh? ok:, so this is kind of weird, theres a reason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 16:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18035288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryan_the_baby_idiot/pseuds/ryan_the_baby_idiot
Summary: R has never been known by anything but just that... the letter R. There's always been something about his life that isn't quite right, but he's never really let it bother him. Why should he? Everyone feels like something's... wrong, right?Wrong.He doesn't realize it until he meets another person who's just the same as him--another man known only by the letter E.





	1. Chapter 1

The pain in his chest returned again, full force. 

This is how the human body works, right? It's full of flaws, and periodically has fits of sharp pain for no real reason. Simply because it, like everything else, is an imperfect system. 

Sitting at the practically deserted bar, R was forced to set his drink down to double over in pain. He waited, patiently, like he always did, for the pain to subside. Like it always did. After a moment--slightly longer than usual, he noted--the pain subsided. It didn't seem as though anyone had noticed the small episode. Or, at least, if they had, they hadn't bothered to react, or say anything to him. 

The man straightened himself, grabbing the glass he'd been holding a moment before, the slightest twinge of desperation pulling the cool glass to his lips. It felt safe--which may have been a concern in itself, as he'd never met another person who'd been so immediately soothed by drink at a young age. This wasn't something he'd built up over years of abusing himself with alcohol, no. The very first time he'd tasted it, it felt as though he'd been transported home for the first time. It wasn't even the drunkenness that did it. It was the mere feeling of the burning in his throat, the knowledge that he was there. 

Though, if he was being honest, he didn't particularly mind being a bit drunk, either. 

"Slow down there, you might hurt yourself." He hadn't even noticed the person sitting down at his left, another man, likely around the same age.

He set the glass down in response. He didn't recognize this new person, but knew, somehow, that he shouldn't antagonize him. Regardless, he felt the need to respond with some level of indignation--you know, for his own satisfaction. "And who might you be?" 

"I'm E." The man grinned. 

"Like the letter?" 

" _Yes,_ like the letter. And you are?" 

"I'm... R." He knew what he was saying as it left his mouth, but he couldn't take back his comment or his honesty about his stupid name. 

But E didn't question him, or assume he was teasing. Instead, his face brightened, and he eagerly responded, "Like the  _letter?_ " 

The emphasis on the last word made R cringe inwardly. He couldn't decide on why. But he finally decided to get a good look at the person who sat next to him. Dark brown hair fell just past his ears, framing hazel eyes that were just dark enough in color to look as though they might hold secrets deeper than R could know. He couldn't help but study his face a moment longer--surely, there was no way to describe him except... 

Angelically beautiful. 

R resisted the sudden urge to sharply inhale. In front of this stranger, who he could suddenly see as anything but a stranger, it seemed inappropriate to display any of the hundreds, maybe thousands, he wasn't sure, of thoughts running frantically through his head. His vision had failed for just a moment, just long enough for the person in front of him to appear as somebody else. He hadn't gotten enough of a chance to look... it disappeared out of his vision.

_Angelically beautiful, huh?_

He glanced up, relieved to see that E had turned away, now having a new conversation with the bartender. While R hadn't a clue what they were talking about, it was fairly clear E was very, very invested. His passion was etched on his face. He almost looked like a completely new person. 

A completely new person? 

R stood up, finishing his drink in one continued gulp. "Well, I'll be off, then." 

E looked at him, and R couldn't decide if his expression was confused, irritated, or amused. "Already?" R realized, then, that E had probably seen him walk in--a mere fifteen minutes previous. "But we'd just started talking." 

"Well, it is a bar, I could ask for your number," R spoke carefully, realizing suddenly that it was, indeed, the modern era. "If you... you know, didn't want the conversation to end." He regretted the words the minute they were out of his mouth. That was a stupid thing to ask, and he'd failed to phrase it in a way that didn't sound like bad flirting, which of course, it wasn't. But E didn't immediately recoil.

"My number...? That's not a bad idea." He was murmuring too, as if not quite present anymore. He did, however, write the ten digits on a napkin and dismissively hand it over. Now clutching the paper for dear life, R left the bar, irritation twinging at his face. What a stupid thing to say! Why suddenly become so awkward? Why ruin a decently mediocre day? He had no explanation. He stifled a noise of anger, and headed home, not bothering to try to get a ride this time. What's a couple miles, anyway? He had enough frustration to fuel ten miles of walking--the two and a half needed to return home were nothing. 

And still, his own thoughts rattled and echoed in his head. 

_Angelically beautiful._

They were so dramatic, so over the top--even if it weren't for the sudden, startling reaction he'd had to them, he wouldn't have been pleased with the phrase. Yet, when E so passionately spoke to the bartender, it seemed there were no other words R could think of that did him justice. 

How strange. He'd had strange encounters before; flashing images in his head that felt akin to memories that he could never get to materialize, names that resounded far too much for him. But he knew this one was different. But try as he might, R didn't have an answer. Not this time.

He just couldn't figure this one out.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take long after waking up the next morning for R to know that it would be an entirely unproductive day. Nothing to do, probably sick, and he didn't seem to have gotten much sleep, either. Not that he was sure. But these things were, ultimately, a norm for him. He sighed, deciding to delay fully waking up for a little bit longer. 

He glanced around the small room, attempting to take in surroundings of the real world. Some days were so utterly empty, it felt wrong. R paused before pushing himself into an upright position. Entering further into consciousness only exasperated the persisting feeling of wrongness that filled the room. Almost as though moved by some outside force, he turned his head to notice the torn napkin still on the small table beside his bed. The ten numbers written ever so neatly by E. 

Suddenly, any lasting remnants of sleep were completely gone from his head. He leaped up before even fully processing his own movements. Grabbing the paper (and his phone, which was already on critically low battery), he quickly typed in the number, paused, and typed out an impeccably boring message. Perfect. 

R: hey, its r. we met yesterday 

And he plugged in the phone and waited. 

Breakfast would've been a good idea. It didn't even occur to R, though. But, it's not as though that was an uncommon thing to happen. There were plenty of things happened far too often--forgetting meals was probably the most common thing on the list. He never forgot coffee, though. So, that was his task as he waited for the response. 

 

_Buzz_

R almost spilled his coffee running to the phone. The response was just as boring as the initial message. 

E: Oh, right! Glad you didn't lose my number. How's it going? 

He inhaled sharply, gripping the phone far too tightly. The wrongness seemed to have dissipated from the room. R closed his eyes, allowing a new emotion to flood through him. For the first time he could remember, he felt as though he was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

Now, though, he was sure he was ill. So, he'd accept that he'd be staying in for the day. He had everything he needed for the day, anyway. Besides, he had things to do. Text his new friend. 

 

R: fine, you know. kinda sick. you? 

E: Oh, pretty great, actually. 

R: yeah? what happened? 

E: You actually texted me. 

R: wait, really? 

E: I'm just kidding, you can calm down. Well, mostly kidding. I am glad you texted. 

R: well, can you say what's making your day so great then? 

E: Yeah! Well, no, really. There isn't really a reason, it's just a nice day. 

R: well good for you 

E: Maybe I would've asked if you wanted to meet somewhere later today, but you said you're sick, right? 

R: yeah. another day, maybe? 

E: Sure 

 

R set the phone down, content enough with the conversation to allow it to end. A plan? Perhaps. He sighed, settling himself at the one and only dining chair he owned. 

 

\--------

 

E couldn't understand why he so desperately wanted to hate this new person. R, was it? The only other person he'd ever met with a letter name? If anything, he knew, they should've been bonding over such a rare shared experience. And E did try to hold the flimsy tie between them, if only for the sake of politeness. Well, there was another reason. 

Despite his unexplained need to hold disdain for this man he'd never been crossed by, he also felt a closeness there that he needed to hold onto. How both of these could occur at the same time, he did not know. Why he felt either or both of these things, he did not know. He wondered whether it would be possible to shake it. He didn't dare try it. 

Anyway, instead of shaking it, he simply ignored the conflicting feelings for the time being. After all, E had things he needed to do, too, and people to see. Brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from his eyes, he considered his current to-do list. Probably far too long to accommodate much time being spent on a new person. He decided to ignore the situation for now. E groaned when he saw the name Casey appear on the front of his now ringing phone. That would be his younger sister, who only ever called her older brother for dating advice, even though E had reminded her several times he had even less experience in that realm than her. Regardless, he didn't have time for her love troubles, but couldn't bear to just ignore her. E was incapable of cruelty. So he picked up the phone, and did his best to conceal the irritation in his voice. 

"Hey Casey, what's going on?" 

With no introduction or even a 'hello', she began. "Do you think Myles likes me? Like, for real? I want to ask him out but I don't know how." 

"You haven't even spoken to him yet, right? I'm going to tell you what I always tell you: I say, there are more important things to worry about." He paused, before adding on, "But, if you did ask him out, I doubt you'd get turned down. Guys are suckers for a pretty face." 

"Mm... okay, E!" 

"Hey, in the future, you know you can and probably should ask Jane about this kind of stuff, right?" 

Casey rolling her eyes was practically audible through the phone. "Jane doesn't  _talk._ Especially when love stuff comes up." E could imagine her stomping her foot, behaving several years younger than she was. "Well, thank you, E!" And off she went. Somehow, she was always the first to call and the first to hang up. 

E sighed, turning back to his work. He could afford no more distractions. 

 

\--------

 

As the day had gone on, it had only become clearer that R was ill. So, the decision he had already made was reinforced. No leaving the house today. 

Idly, with his eyes closed, R pondered over the events of the last few days. It was all he  _could_ do, really. He wasn't one to stay home all day. He needed, and always had needed, to be out, to be with people, to interact. 

There wasn't much new for him to consider. He'd gone out to the same places with the same people at the same times. The only change was that new person. E. R could see him behind his eyelids if he focused hard enough. It was the eyes that had struck him the most. Deep, beautiful, hazel eyes that told the story of a hundred lifetimes. The hair, too. Short, yet long enough to frame an appropriately feminine face--no, perfectly feminine.

And E just wouldn't leave his head. 

R eyed his cell phone. It was certainly an option to continue the previous conversation. Maybe rude, though. The small room was painfully empty, far too lonely. R decided to force himself to sleep. Maybe sixteen straight hours of unconsciousness would fend off this looming feeling of darkness that threatened him. Oh, and maybe he'd recover faster, too. That should be the main reason. 

After a few irritatingly slow minutes, he finally succeeded. 

 

\--------

 

Jane was agonizing over the dress she was handed. Objectively, it looked great on her. A light pink that contrasted against her dark skin, the skirt falling just long enough to not embarrass her. It was a beautiful dress for a beautiful girl. 

She hated it. 

And she couldn't explain why, of course. Running a hand through her hair, she attempted to pinpoint the problem. Without much success. It felt immature to her, maybe, was the right answer. Or it was far too feminine. It didn't matter though, it wasn't as though she had a choice of whether to wear it or not. After years of avoiding this type of clothing, her time was finally up when she had to attend a family member's wedding. No slipping through the cracks this time, she knew. 

Instead, she changed out of the dress and back into her normal clothes, which were neutral in every sense of the word. Unable to explain why, she never felt quite satisfied with her appearance. And it wasn't self-hatred, either. Sometimes Jane wished that was the problem--at least then she'd know. At least then she'd understand her own thoughts. But everyone's dissatisfied, right? This wasn't something worth worrying over. No one else cared about Jane's dress, so it should and  _would_ be fine. This she reminded herself over and over as she casually hung up the dress.

She studied it for a moment, on the hanger, slow swaying dissipating. The shadow of the closet covered it in darkness and hid all other clothes inside. It reminded Jane of something she couldn't remember. Somebody else's closet that she couldn't quite recall. 

No matter. She knew Casey would be expecting her at the cafe in just a few minutes. It'd be hell to cross her again. 

She pushed her thoughts out of her head, and headed out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

The room was loud, crowded, and absolutely perfect for both R and E. Together again, they’d both invited some of their own friends to join in the party. Despite hardly getting the chance to say hello to each other, a very quickly intoxicated R had his eyes trained on one person only. Who it was, of course, goes without saying. R had invited his large group of friends, and E had only invited a few people. He claimed, however, that he had several more people he _could_ have invited, but they were all busy that night. Whether or not that was the truth remains to be seen.

Both Casey and Jane had shown up, however, Casey dragging a less than comfortable man in tow. Jane didn’t exactly look at home either, but she faked it far better. Se, at least, didn’t exude an energy of ‘please help me’. Instead, she simply stayed quiet, following Casey around protectively. It seemed as though that was kind of her job, keeping Casey safe. She watched while her drinks were poured, kept a lookout for any weirdos, and was unrelentingly suspicious of the man she’d brought along with her. Myles. Poor Myles was all of a sudden the primary target of Jane’s suspicions.

In the corner of the room that housed people less conscious of their surroundings, there was R, gripping the edge of a table for balance and scanning the bar for anyone who would listen to him ramble. When the search turned up no one, he turned to plan B. Dance, joke, and have an illusion of a good time until all was forgotten. It was far from the first time he’d done this. By his own philosophy, life is chaos. The world yearns for disorder. And so did R.

And then there was E. Joyous, though without more than a couple distracted friends, essentially alone at the party. He was alarmingly content there, surrounded by the loudness of strangers. Ass though, somehow, this was a home for him. He smiled, watching the chaos unfold. Watching, that is, until a very off balance R approached him.

Why, all of a sudden, had R’s attention shifted to be practically exclusively on E? His plan had failed miserably, was the easiest way to put it. Rejected by everyone (due to their being far more present than he was), he’d run out of options for occupying himself. That, of course, left E as the victim of his misery. “R? Are you okay?” It took him practically shouting to be heard over the noise around them.”

“Oh, I’m just fine.”

“Thanks for inviting me here, and letting me bring my friends.” R didn’t respond to the obligatory sentence. Now, he didn’t have the barrier of social correctness that would generally spur him to maintain small talk. “Ah, did you run out of people to talk to?”

“Kinda,” he responded, now far more interested in the conversation, “My, uh, friends… have this… _theory,_ that if they refuse to talk to me every time I’m drunk. Stupid, if you ask me.”

Though he knew trying to be rational with R was pointless, E wanted to give it a shot anyway. “You were drinking every time I’ve seen you in person. Maybe it is a problem.”

R’s demeanor immediately shifted. fuse to interact with me while I’m drunk.” He grinned, irritation explicitly visible on his face. “Then… I’ll stop drinking.” He scoffed, while E silently marveled at how clean his speech was, considering his… state.

“Well, maybe that means they care about you?” Reasoning was pointless, but E felt strangely compelled to at least try.

“Because I like it, damn. Not that deep. Plus, Wish you’d all leave me alone.” As if simply to be contrarian, R grabbed the nearest bottle (who it belonged to, neither knew) and took a long drink from it, all the while maintaining an infuriating eye contact with E. 

E reached to grab the bottle away. "R, put that bottle down!" 

R paused mid-drink, eyes frozen wide open. He set it down, slowly, as though in a trance. His eyes stared beyond E, to somewhere else. "At your command, E..." His expression shifted to that of confusion. He hadn't pronounced "E" like the letter, but more akin to the way you'd pronounce "ah". Based on his expression, it was a mistake even R could not make sense of. 

 

\--------

 

What was going through R's head at the moment? Nothing comprehensible, unfortunately, only a sharp jolt of fear at the phrase 'put the bottle down'. However, that's exactly what he did. He put the bottle down. 

Now with nothing to do with his hands, R found his motions torn from his control--what's more, he found himself nearly unaware of his own actions. A moment later he found himself halfway to hanging off of E's arm, unsure of if he'd latched on out of affection or a need for balance. Either way, E was now looking down at him with tired, but beautifully bright eyes. 

It was as though the chaos around them melted away and R stared nearly helplessly into the hazel eyes before him. He was forced to notice, yet again, just how beautiful this man was. 

God, he hated being this drunk. 

R liked to drink. That was irrefutable. It was a connection to a home he was unaware of, a love he could no longer see. But he absolutely despised being drunk beyond slight wooziness. It allowed him to enter into a cold, dark world where there is no bigger picture, only him and a hell of his own creation. So he knew how to drink in small doses. But sometimes, out with everyone, he failed to reign himself in. And then, there he was, hanging off someone's arm. His jubilant nature nowhere to be found. 

As his consciousness faded, R was able to make out one more sentence from E. "Guess you better get home, huh?" 

And the world disappeared. 

 

\--------

 

E was unsettled by the small apartment. Something about it felt off. 

He'd spent the night (well, what was left of the night) on R's couch. That was the obvious choice, of course. He wasn't exactly going to force R to sleep there. Now, awaking at eight in the morning like always, he was grateful they'd waited until Friday to have their outing. Neither of them had class on Saturdays. E never had more than a drink at a time, but lack of sleep alone was making his head pound. He couldn't imagine what R was about to suffer through when (if?) he woke up. 

That was why E didn't wake him. Instead, he sat silently in the kitchen and texted a frantic Casey to let her know the situation and that everything was alright. She affirmed that she, too, was okay in return. 

"H...Huh?" The voice came from R, but it didn't sound like him in the slightest. "Who's that!?" 

E stood. "It's me! It's okay, it's me, E." 

"Oh, okay." R seemed to relax at that. E smiled, glad he wouldn't be dealing with an  _irrational_ hungover almost-stranger. What a... relief. 

R seemed to have already fallen back asleep. E couldn't blame him. Gazing out the uncleaned window, E wondered why he was staying. He could easily just leave. He had no obligation, moral or otherwise, to stay here. He could just send a text in a few hours, saying 'you alright?' and that'd be perfectly acceptable, both socially and morally. Maybe E just wasn't like that. He was overwhelmingly kind, and would do nearly anything for the people he cared about. The people he loved. Which left only one question for him to answer. 

Did he care about R? 

Did he love R? 

E watched the curled up frame of R, positioned as though guarding himself against pain he couldn't make cease with any physical shield. He studied the light curls that failed to fall far enough to touch his eyes. Eyes that, when opened, would reveal a deep brown, almost black, and in this light no doubt glittering with the light of morning that shone through the windows, not very bright, but those eyes could surely pick up on even the slightest of--

Alright. Maybe he did care for R a little. 

Maybe it was primarily pity, though. Pity for this man that clearly had some deep-seated issues that he'd yet to handle. Pity for the person before him, already beginning to stir, and promptly beginning to writhe with agony. 

"E... E..." His voice was nearly unintelligible, muffled by his own throat. 

E immediately dropped his train of thought, suddenly overwhelmed by the very pity he'd been analyzing himself over. "Yeah? You want something?" 

"Yeah. Painkiller. Bathroom counter. Door on the left." His hand was over his face, eyes squeezed tightly shut. And that was understandable, too.

E did as ordered, quickly making his way into the bathroom and grabbing the small bottle off of the counter. How many? Two, no, three was probably a more realistic amount if he wanted there to be any chance of there being any effect at all. He walked back, and handed them over silently, along with a small glass of tap water. R muttered out his thanks, clearly preoccupied by his own troubles. No matter. E didn't expect or need much in return for his kindness. It was okay. 

It was okay.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the same spot on his chest again. He groaned, gripping it with both hands. Likely it would stop soon, but he was left to wonder why it had begun to hurt so much more often and so much  _worse._ What used to be a twinge of pain was now sheer agony for god knows how long. R was barely awake yet, but had been jolted into consciousness by the sudden sensation that could only be described as tearing flesh, yet when he managed in short bursts to look down, nothing was wrong. 

"R? R!? What's wrong, are you okay?" E raced over to him, clearly just as startled by the episode. He took R by the shoulders, attempting to hold him until the pain ceased, but it didn't. In fact, at being touched, R cried out again and batted him away. So, instead, E stood awkwardly a few feet away, watching R gasp for air until finally he was able to relax as the pain apparently subsided. "Are you okay...?" 

R slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. He ran a hand over his chest, lingering on the two marks that had been there as long as he could remember, the same place where his chest periodically burned like it just had. No injury, he was able to deduce. "Yeah, I'm fine." He considered for a moment that sharp, sudden, unexplained pain in the chest region may be considered a serious medical concern, but disregarded the worry for the time being. It was probably just something everyone experienced and never voiced. He looked up, now meeting eyes with E, whose concern was written across his face.  _Ah,_ R began to worry,  _I probably shouldn't have shoved him away._ "Sorry for... pushing you." 

"It's fine." Finally, E seemed to relax. He smiled, sitting back down in the one chair. R stood slowly. It felt like the painkillers worked perfectly, but he worried that moving too fast might be tempting fate. 

R had planned to cross the room to his chair, before registering (in his brain that apparently was still asleep) that E was sitting there. "Wait, no..." His words were quiet. He was talking to himself, not E. Instead, R stepped backwards a few and fell back onto his bed. Still upright, though, even though it took nearly everything in him to not practically fall back asleep. 

"Do you want... me to leave now?" 

"No, don't. I like not being alone." 

“Okay.” E was left with nothing to do. He didn’t want to speak. He couldn’t leave. Maybe… “Do you want to go out for coffee?”

“…What?” R raised an eyebrow, in an honest attempt to communicate his confusion. After all, the offer was sudden and seemed entirely random. His first thought was that maybe E was trying to ask…

“Wait, no, not like that. I mean, for fun. In a few minutes? I was going to make you coffee but I couldn’t figure out your machine, and…” He trailed off. R considered the offer briefly, trying to make it seem like more of a dilemma than it was.

“Sure, why not. He smiled, genuine happiness behind it. It felt bizarre. Having genuine joy behind a smile. Usually, when he smiled, it was either fake, forced, or both—or he was drunk, but that didn’t count. “Oh, but you don’t have any clothes.” It wasn’t as if he was going to lend E an outfit. Besides being inappropriately intimate, they had obviously different clothing sizes.

E considered. “Well, I could stop by my dorm on the way there to change.” He paused. “Oh, yeah. I’m a student, by the way.”

“A student?” R had gotten up b now, and was searching through his room near-frantically to find an outfit that wasn’t awful. He was still in the same clothes as the night before—which was just… completely unsatisfactory. They were gross. “Of what?”

“Law.” E’s response was almost sheepish. It didn’t seem like he wanted to show off. Quite the contrary, actually. It seemed like he wanted to avoid showing off at all costs. Whether this was special treatment for the pathetic drunk or the way he treated everybody, R wasn’t sure, and he didn’t really think he wanted to know.

Ah, there was an outfit deemed socially acceptable by what R would predict to be most of society. “Law, that’s cool. I _was_ studying law but I’m on a gap year.” Truthfully, his ‘gap year’ had just hit its eighteenth month, but he certainly wasn’t going to let E know that. “I’ll be back. Gonna… go change.”

E nodded, and R ran off into the bathroom. He considered what he’d said about being on a gap year. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. He did sincerely intend on going back to school, once he got past this hump. Maybe not in law, though. Law depressed and frustrated him—two things that he had enough of on his own, thank you very much. Still, maybe if he could find another field. The state he currently lived in was by no means the state he wanted to remain in.

 _Actually,_ when he thought about it, R had some real difficulties to overcome before he could do much of anything with himself. Not that he’d ever tell anyone of his daily troubles, but still, they were present, and they irritated him to no end. At his core, R was an extrovert. He thrived on people, on loudness, on chaos. It fulfilled him in a way solitude never could. Lately, though, he’d found himself isolated more and more, secluding himself from the world at large. Indoors with the curtains drawn and the windows locked, with only the slightest breeze coming in through the crack under the door frame. If anyone were to find out about those days (which were becoming more and more frequent, mind you) things would likely be catastrophic.

Quickly, he changed, but before leaving, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The moment held him, and he stood, frozen, in front of his own reflection.

He just didn’t recognize it, that was the issue that plagued him.

R wasn’t particularly beautiful, but he wasn’t quite ugly, either, though he couldn’t help but think that maybe he should be. Maybe that would suit his personality better. God, what kind of person is best suited by ugliness? 

His hair was a soft, light brown. It was short--but it hadn't always been. For quite a long time, actually, his hair had been quite long. He would curl it, and let the haphazard ringlets fall on his face. R quite liked that, but it wasn't considered adult enough. So that time was over. Now, he didn't curl his hair, and he maintained its length. It fell to, but never past, his ears, and though a mess most of the time, easy to turn into a semi-presentable hairstyle. 

Quite honestly, R hated it this way. But it was no matter. 

He studied his face in more detail than he had in a long time. His features were proportional, but he couldn't say much for them beyond that. His eyes were a light brown that matched his hair, and the rest of his face was nondescript at best. There were a few marks across it, which he glanced at as well. The small scar under his eye (from an incident that had occurred with his friend Ella, back when they were just kids), the bruise on the right side of his chin that never seemed to heal (he hit it most every day on the jagged part of the bathroom door), even the short cut that ran nearly parallel to his hairline (god knows how that got there). These flaws (if they could be classified as flaws) always seemed to ground him, to bring him back to reality. 

Coldly, he looked away, and walked out the door, careful to avoid the jagged part. He really ought to fix that one day. 

E was still waiting for him, just as beautiful as the night and days before, even with his hair a mess and his face tainted with worry. "Oh, R! Are you ready to go?" 

R ran a hand through his hair. It was an absolute mess--perfect. "Yeah, let's go." 

 

\--------

 

"So, why are you taking a gap year?" Conversation was lacking, but it was clear E was trying his best. 

R paused, taking his time to answer. "Law depressed me. Honestly, if-- _when_ I go back to school, I'm probably going to switch majors." 

"Ah." E took his time picking his words as well. Really, they were both trying to stretch the one conversation topic they had found. "Were you doing law for the money? Or, uh, the prestige...?" 

"To..." R stared down at his black coffee. It was nearly empty already, even though they'd only just gotten it a few minutes ago. He'd forced himself to slow down. He didn't want to leave just yet. "To prove that I'm worth something, I guess? You?" 

E smiled, as though recalling a memory. "I want to impact something... or someone. I don't want to be a lawyer, at least not in the traditional sense. I'm going to change the world, y'know?" 

R scoffed. "Yeah, okay." 

"What? Don't be so cynical, R." E frowned; he looked genuinely upset. 

"Oh, you were serious?" R took a sip of his coffee. Oh, that was the last of it. "You know you can't change anything." 

"Hey, don't be rude." 

"I'm not being rude, I'm being realistic. It's not an attack on your character, I'm just saying no one person has that kind of power..." 

E paused, composing himself, visibly suppressing his irritation. "It's worth trying, you know. If you believe in something." 

"I don't believe in anything. I take care not to." R leaned back. "It only leads to hurt, anyway. What's the point?" 

E didn't respond, but R noticed understanding flash across his eyes.  _And what, pray tell, have you figured out about me?_ E opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and closed it. 

"What, have you cracked the code? Speak, if you want to speak." 

E took agonizingly long to structure his words. Finally, after the elongated silence, he began to speak. "So... why don't you tell me... the  _real_ reason why you took a gap year?" 

"I told you. I didn't like law. I'm going to switch majors." 

"So why didn't you just switch? Why take off school for so long?" 

Irritation began to creep into R's voice, as much as he tried to suppress it. "I don't  _know,_ E. It was just too much, you know?" 

" _What_ was?" E's voice was becoming more agitated, as well. R attempted to maintain his calm, but the last thing he needed was another pair of prying eyes on his life, waiting for even a shred of definitive proof that R was so, so broken and desperately needed someone to swoop in and save him. Saving him, of course, meant taking away the last things in life that brought him joy. So, no, he would absolutely not allow that to happen. 

"School, I guess? Life? I don't know." R may have had some strange infatuation with E, but that wasn't enough to make him put up with an interrogation, or whatever was going on now. 

"Whatever, R. I think it's healthy, no, I think it's absolutely essential to believe in something. Because, really, who are you without what you believe in?" 

R stared at him, willing any and all emotion to drain from both of their faces. "Who am I without beliefs? Well," he mockingly began to count off on his fingers, "I'm practically a law school dropout, I'm an extrovert that barely talks to people anymore. I'm someone who's apparently willing to indulge a complete stranger's--" he gestured at E, who reacted with immediate anger, "--interrogations and  _suspicions,_ I guess? I'm R, I'm R, I'm  _just_ R." He sighed. "And you're just E. And maybe it'd be a little easier to be happy in your life if you could just accept that." 

E's face was blank, no emotion showing except a bit of shock. "So you're happy? So you have an easier time being happy? Are you sure about that one, R?" Before R could respond, E had up and left, leaving a startled and shaken R with an empty cup of coffee sitting in front of him.  _Pathetic._

It's all just so pathetic.


	5. Chapter 5

_1\. Keep the windows open._

_2\. Eat three meals a day._

_3\. Talk to someone at least once a day._

_4\. Regularly drink water._

_5\. Get dressed within an hour of waking up._

_6. Try to stay positive._

_7. _No more than one glass of wine.__

_8\. Take a shower._

_9\. Go to sleep at a reasonable hour._

_10\. Remind yourself of the people you love._

 

R had not made this list of commandments. Ella had, his closest friend for as long as he could remember. She was convinced R needed some sort of help, and for some reason decided to make a list of these things, these things that any halfway functional person would do without thinking, at least most of the time. Still, Ella had harped on it for far too long, assuring R over and over that she'd be on his case if he neglected even one. He'd thrown the paper away immediately, of course, though not without properly thanking (and scolding) Ella for her concern. She seemed to get off his case, but one could never be sure. 

 

Anyway, R was having one of his  _days._ Like all people, he had ups and downs. Today was a down, a very, very deep one.

It was midday. R was laying on the ratty couch in his apartment, having fallen asleep there at some unknown, ungodly hour the night before. He had little clear memory of that time, but was certain that the amount of sleep that he'd allotted had been dismal at best based on the pulsating pain in his head. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to make out the light indentations he knew were there in the dim light that managed to slip through the cracks of the curtains. The light, though lacking, was irritating to him. 

Maybe he would get up to bolt the curtains down to avoid any and all light from getting in, but there was a  _reason_ why he'd yet to get up. He just couldn't. He closed his eyes, content to slip into oblivion for a few hours. Maybe when he woke, this day would be over and he'd feel like a human again. But sleep didn't come. Instead, he laid, three fingers pressed to the side of his head in a failed attempt to cease the pain, hoping that something would happen to bring him back to life. Or maybe he was hoping that nothing would happen. It didn't really matter, because there was no knock on his door or ring from his phone. 

Finally, R brought himself to stand, forcing himself to ignore the wave of dizziness that overcame him as soon as he did. He began the slow trek to his kitchen, though his body protested against the movement. His plan was to make coffee. If he could just wake up a little bit, maybe he could bring himself to call someone up, a friend, maybe. Maybe Ella, or one of his friends from school, even. Back when he went to school. And then, the coffee machine wouldn't turn on. Perfect. Well, he certainly wouldn't be able to leave the house just yet, so there goes that plan. He checked to make sure it was plugged in. It was, and his suspicions were confirmed. The machine was broken. 

Strangely desperate for  _something_ to sip on, he began to search through the kitchen haphazardly. The fridge was basically empty (well, not entirely, but R wasn't sure he considered a few assorted condiments and half a loaf of bread--wait, why was the bread in the fridge?--worth his consideration), not that that fact really meant much to him anyway. Most of the time, when he did eat, it was over at a friend's house or while out on the town. Besides, he hadn't eaten all day and had yet to start to feel ill, which was as good a sign as any that the situation was perfectly okay and he was perfectly fine. 

He considered the tap water as an option, but immediately discarded it after taking one sip and finding the taste bitter and slightly nauseating. It was either a problem with the pipes or the filtration or him, and he wasn't quite willing to figure out which. 

Finally, he decided to give up his weak charade and just grabbed what he'd been planning to get the whole time. His last good bottle of wine, which he kept hidden in the back of the cabinet under his sink, obscured by cobwebs and dust--and a couple empty bottles that looked like they  _might_ have  _once upon a time_ held cleaning chemicals. 

His first couple sips were slow and calculated, but the restraint he held quickly began to dissipate at the possibility of being able to slip through the rest of the day without much pain, and waking up tomorrow without even any memory of it. It was tempting. Far too tempting for him, and instead of keeping it slow, he began to drink faster, with more desperation every gulp. He  _should_ have gotten a glass, even a water glass, but he was too far gone to think of it. As the bottle neared empty, he heard his phone ring. 

That phone was probably still on low battery. He certainly hadn't plugged it in the night before, but it did ring, which of course meant that it hadn't died yet. Placing the drink as carefully as he could on the counter, he began to stumble over, feeling his way in the dark. Ella's name was illuminated on the screen. R, after a silent groan that he took care to suppress, answered her call. 

"R! You said you would meet me after class today, what gives? Where are you?" 

R began to stumble over his words. The alcohol was beginning to take hold, and he made sure to keep his words straight. "Aw, man, that was today? I totally forgot, El, I'm sorry." It was true that he'd completely forgotten what day he was supposed to meet Ella, but he was secretly more shocked that it was apparently after three o'clock, considering that was when her class got out. He was still convinced it was noon. 

"Well," her voice had softened, but she stayed firm, "can you not forget about me anymore? You know you keep doing this--" 

"I know, I know, it's just that, uh, I'm forgetful, you know?" Not a lie. He was, indeed, quite forgetful. "Not the most reliable? I mean, I basically dropped out of college..." 

"No, you didn't. I'll make sure you go back, you know. I'm not letting you ruin your own life with your dumbassery and depression!" 

"Like you did?" His voice is teasing, but secretly R worries that Ella might take it the wrong way and take offense.

His worries disappear, however, when she gives a halfway incredulous scoff in response. " _No,_ not like me, I'm still in school. And I haven't brought myself halfway to death." He could imagine her miming hanging herself. "Oh, I'm so tired, Ella! Oh, why won't anyone talk to me, Ella? Oh, please help me, Ella!" She laughs, but its halfhearted at best. "Moron. Just sleep more." 

"I cannot remember a single time I've ever asked you for help." 

"Yeah? Second grade art class. You couldn't figure out how to use a ruler to draw a straight line. I distinctly remember you pulling me aside and making me do it for you.  _That's_ helping you." 

He allows himself a short laugh. "Okay, okay, fine. I'll meet you another time, okay?" 

"Fine. I need to complain about class to you, so don't bail again." 

She mutters some generic goodbye and hangs up quick. R has no objections. He loves Ella with his whole heart, but the thickness in his head is making it difficult to enjoy even her. He must be sick or something, he realizes. He feels like absolute shit. Come to think of it, he considers slowly, he's been getting sick pretty often lately. 

The phone buzzes again, alerting him not only of a text message, but of the fact that he had yet to set the phone back down. The message, to his surprise, is from E. 

E: Are we okay?

R let out a half laugh, half groan, before tapping in a generally affirmative answer. Yeah, the meeting a few days ago had gone like shit, but for some reason he couldn't describe he wasn't quite ready to give up on this guy. Which is why E's grateful response evoked the game gratefulness in R. Admiration? It was something like that. Granted, R wasn't exactly in a state to psychoanalyze himself. He was halfway through setting his phone down on the table when his body finally gave into the request for sleep it'd been given twenty minutes ago, and R fell to the ground, hunched into a ball. 

 

\--------

 

And  _why_ in the world E thought it was a good idea for him and R to meet up again at the same cafe, R didn't have a single clue. All he knew is that he sure was going, and he silently thanked the lord that his head had cleared. Well, kind of. The fact that leaving his apartment didn't seem like a death sentence was the main difference, but that was what made all the difference to him. Maybe Ella was right, and he did need some sort of help. Not that he'd ever get it, and not like he'd ever admit it to Ella. He hadn't even begun the complicated process of admitting it to himself. 

It was midday ( _actually_ midday this time, not midafternoon--out of paranoia, R had forced himself to double check) when he left to meet E. The streets were surprisingly crowded for a weekday, but the breeze was nice and helped R to rouse himself. It was a lucky break that the cafe was so close to where he lived. Only a couple minute walk, which meant that only a few moments later, he had arrived. E, ever the early attendant, had already arrived. 

His face was set, displeasure obvious. R felt his discomfort grow as he sat down. To his surprise, though, when E looked up at him, his face shifted from displeasured to shock, and possibly slightly horrified. "What happened to  _you?_ You look like you got beat up." 

R fought to maintain his composure. His tiredness, the part of his brain that was currently fixating his eyes on E's, and the concern on E's face fought back. "Seriously, dude?" 

"Okay, fine. Sorry." He pressed his hands together. R watched carefully, as though trying to pick out a clue as to what he was supposed to say next. 

"So, like... why are we here?" 

"I wanted to talk to you." E pauses, uncharacteristically quiet. Not that, R realizes a moment later, he has any idea what E's character is like. "I just... I guess... I stand by the things that I said the other day, but I feel bad about making you upset? So like... can I say 'I'm sorry you felt I was rude to you', but have it be understood I'm not trying to be an asshole?" 

R narrowed his eyes. It was practically involuntary. "You do realize we basically don't know each other, right? Like, we met for two seconds at a bar, went to a party together where we barely talked and you had to take me home because I fell asleep on you. The next day we went for coffee, and we fought." 

"But I enjoyed those times. Even fighting, you know, before you left." 

"Look. We've only had one real human conversation, and it ended in me storming out of my favorite coffee shop." He grimaced slightly. "I don't think that's, like, the best sign." 

E held his gaze fast. The intensity sent a shiver down R's spine. It was terrifying--but he couldn't, nor did he want to, look away. Mesmerizing. "I suppose it could just be me, but I felt... drawn to you. I-I mean, I'm not..." His unfaltering confidence suddenly began to falter. "...I'm not, I don't know, flirting with you. Or anything like that. I'm not saying I have a crush on you... well, maybe... Uh, platonically? Can you have a platonic crush?" He's obviously trying (and failing, miserably) to keep the panic out of his voice. R tries not to feel bad for him. Tries not to want to take his hand and tell him its okay. 

After all, E just told him everything's platonic. R better not get creepy. Not that he would. He made a face at his internal awkwardness. He hadn't even said any of this allowed, and he already felt like he'd made a fool of himself. "Dude, I'll totally be your friend if we can make it work. Just, like, stranger danger, or something like that." His voice was low and he consciously made an effort to keep it steady, but he succeeds. Mostly. 

E smiled. It's a beautiful sight. It's at that moment R's phone rang. Fucking Ella, he loves her, but she's gotta back off of him from time to time, always trying to... well, always trying to keep him happy when he doesn't need it. He really wished he could return the favor sometimes, but he's just not good at that stuff. 

But no, his phone hadn't rung. E's had. "Oh, sorry, I have to take this." There was genuine apology in his voice. R wanted to scoff. Say 'you're  _apologizing_ to me?' or something like that. But he didn't. Instead, he stayed silent. He'd seen the name that had flashed across E's phone screen. Casey. Who in the world was Casey? There was no way for R to know, but E answered the phone and personably said, "Hey, Casey. What's going on now?" 

R wanted to grit his teeth, but didn't. That would just be pathetic, he decides. It's just too much to get that upset over a mystery person named Casey. And, of course, it's not like E has any real tie to R. No real reason to pay him any kind of courtesy. E was still talking, R realized, and R suddenly can't stop himself from passively listening in. 

"Listen, you can't keep calling me five times a day... I know,, you play the 'cute clingy' act, but I mean it... No, I don't mean, Casey, calm down... Yes, I think you should stop freaking out about this... Yes, I love you...  _Yes,_ Casey... No, I don't know... Something important?... How important?... I'm busy right now, alright? Call me later and you can tell me... Okay, fine, in person. Meet me tomorrow? Same place, same time as always?... Okay, great. Love you, bye." E hung up definitively, sighing with exasperation and looking back up at R, who was suddenly and mysteriously halfway between crying and seething. " _She_ has some drama going on." He laughed, before very obviously processing R's face. "Wait, you okay?" 

 _"Yes, I love you." "Love you, bye."_ And there was no reason for R to care at all. And there was  _certainly_ no reason why his fists should be clenched, hidden under the table where E couldn't see. "Just fine. Are you busy? I can go." Who is Casey?  _Who?_

"No, that's just Casey. She doesn't need me right now. I can..." 

Why can't R contain his emotions for one second? It's just plain stupid, getting upset over this. "Alright, I guess." He paused, before giving into his stupid emotions. "Who's Casey?" 

"Oh!" E rolled his eyes, but the relief was obvious on his face. "Just my little sister, always coming to me for dating advice." 

And R was suddenly relaxed. So dumb. Such a waste of energy. "Oh." And it became awkward once again, neither having anything to say again, R unable to let go of his presumptuous thoughts and anger and--

"I appreciate you being worried for me, though." 

 _What?_ "What?" 

"I mean, you were worried I was fighting with someone, not just my kid sister, and wanted to give me space, so..." 

R tried not to gape at him. "Y-You--Uh, yeah. That's... yeah. Glad there's no...  fight." 

"Mhm." E smiled, folding his hands under his chin. "So, do you want to talk, or sit here in silence?" 

"I mean, shit," R half spoke, half whispered, "we could just sit here and stare at each other. Not like neither of us have much to say." 

"Okay." 

"I was kidding." 

E frowned, lowering his hands. R distantly mourned the loss of the position, which he was secretly enjoying. "Why don't we finish our conversation from the other day? How's your year-and-a-half long gap year going?" 

"Oh, great. I sit in the dark, miserable of course, and wait for the fucking sun to come back." His voice was laced with sarcasm, but the image of himself in his apartment, in the dark, lying down and wishing desperately for any sort of reprieve came back to him. 

"Sounds fun." E smiled halfheartedly. "Oh! Hey, I sort of have this group. We're pretty political, like, and activist club? I started it, because I felt that it was a necessary addition to the campus, you know? As in, you can't be without student politics, or you wind up with a mini-feudalistic dystopia of a school, and--" 

"Yeah, but like, why are you telling me this?" 

E swallowed. "Do you want to join?" 

"Why are you asking me, the person who proclaimed to you that I don't believe in an--ah, that I... don't... get involved with politics."

"I want you there. It just feels right. Maybe we can find something you're passionate about." 

R closed his eyes, and lifted his hand to place it on the table so he could tap it slowly. "Ah... sure, I guess. When is it?" 

"Yes!" E nearly squealed, grabbing R's hand from where it laid on the table. R coughed slightly and pulled it away, willing his face not to go red. "It's at that college right off of Oak Street, you know? Four o'clock, Mondays and Fridays! Next one is the day after tomorrow." 

R was partly lost, but E was writing all of this information  _plus_ room numbers on a napkin. The same place where he'd written his phone number. R wasn't  _irritated_ to be joining this club. He was glad to have some built in socialization, since he often failed to plan it himself, and would find himself craving it. Plus, he realized, this would tie him to E. Now they were doing something together. They weren't just strangers anymore. R swallowed, smiling. The change in expression made his lips crack. God. Oh,  _God,_ how long since he  _smiled?_

E was handing him the napkin with excitement shining in his eyes. He cared. Oh man, E cared about something regarding R. And it was something R was actually going to engage with. He actually planned to meet with these people, and... 

"Thanks. Can I like, see you then?" 

"Yup!" E stood, gathering his stuff hurriedly. "See you then!" And there he went, out the door. R watched him go, mesmerized. His eyes refused to go anywhere but E. And... oh, no. It hit him like a bold of lightening, a crash of thunder. It was sudden, no slow realization, maybe because he'd really known it all along.

It wasn't just infatuation, a blind and directionless fondness for a random stranger. Of course it wasn't, why would R be so lucky? 

It was a crush, potent as a schoolgirl's. A goddamn  _crush._

R groaned audibly. What a damn pain in the ass. 


End file.
